Sushi Essay

“Delicious Doesn’t Even Begin to Describe It.”

I remember the first time I tried sushi. Ah, that lovely Japanese style food that is light, refreshing, and totally tantalizing -- simultaneously. Back in December of 2006, my good friends, Miranda and Brittani, wrangled me into having dinner with them at a local sushi place, Daikichi, for a girls’ night out. I don’t have the tendency to make decisions on the spot, but after mulling it over, I acquiesced. Brittani had been eating sushi for awhile, and had introduced it to Miranda; that night they had no idea what introducing sushi to a genuine food lover would do.
I’ve always loved food. For years my body paid the price for it, but after losing weight and keeping it off, I realized that I didn’t eat food just to give myself comfort or because I fancied myself hungry, I ate because I loved the taste of all types of foods. I savored the spices of Indian food, the vivaciousness of Mexican food, the satisfaction of Italian, the unique taste of Chinese food, and the delight and love of home cooking. Chicken, breads and pastas, drinks and smoothies, desserts and cakes – I enjoyed everything (except for the occasional brussel sprout, beets, and turnips). Yet, I had always shrunk from eating sushi. I told myself there wasn’t anything as disgusting as eating raw fish. With my luck, I’d eat something rotten and die or at the very least, puke.
That Friday night, I relinquished all of my preconceived notions I ever had about sushi. How could I be a food lover, and not love or at least try all types of food. All doesn’t mean just a few; it means everything. Brittani, a gregarious woman, started me off on the California Roll, which is just crab, veggies, and the sushi rice and seaweed. I tasted it. It was good. Refreshing. Crisp. Then came the Daikichi Roll: a roll so sumptuous, with a secret recipe involving spices and cheese melted on top, that I decided to buy another one. Then, the Miso Soup. Tofu in a salty seaweed broth. I began to lick my chops. The Spicy Shrimp Tempura was so zesty and crispy, when dipped into soy sauce with a little wasabi, that I salivated until I bought my own.
I fell in obsession with sushi. Once I found something I enjoyed eating, I began to experiment. Eel was a little chewy. Tuna was too dry. Crab and shrimp found a definite place in my food diary. Over the course of the next year, I visited many different sushi restaurants across the Hampton Roads: Mo-Mo, Sushi and West, Misako, Daikichi, Kan-Pai, Haiku Sushi, Kyoto, Sakura, and probably some I don’t even remember. Each time, I allowed myself to try something different. I didn’t always eat out with Miranda and Brittani because my obsession was far more developed than theirs. When we did go out to eat, they bought the same things they had always eaten, and I tried something new.
I made some friends with the people I worked with that loved sushi as much as I did. People who saved to spend sixty or seventy dollars in one sitting in order to satisfy their cravings – a once a month excursion into the exotic tastes of Japan. Three people in particular urged me to try fish roe and quail egg. Not one to willingly back down from a dare unless I deigned it foolish, I tried it. I took Miranda and Brittani out to dinner about a year and a half after they had kindly introduced to me to sushi. I ordered the roe and quail egg. When the waitress brought it, it was large raw fish roe bound by seaweed with a raw quail egg cracked onto the top of it. I felt like the barracuda eating Nemo’s brothers and sisters at the beginning of the movie. The looks on Miranda’s and Brittani’s faces portrayed a repugnance I had rarely seen, but it made me laugh because they were making faces at me and my adventurousness while they were still ordering sushi that was cooked all the way through. What’s the fun if there isn’t a little risk?
I popped the roe and quail egg into my mouth and chewed slowly. The flavor of salt, egg, and fish exploded onto my taste buds to form a sensation that was altogether beautiful. Those raw roe and egg were the most delicious things I had tasted since I realized that there were Sugar-free Vanilla Wafers at Farm Fresh or chocolate peanut butter ice cream at Cold Stone.
I swallowed and smiled. I contemplated my next move. If raw quail egg and roe tasted so good, why not try raw sushi, raw fish or sea creature on a small bed of rice, or sashimi, raw fish alone. I had salmon, and I liked it. I had many other types of fish solo or on a small bed of rice, and I enjoyed the fresh fishy taste of each one. My favorite is the blue marlin: a mild and buttery flavored fish that seems to melt in one’s mouth.
Sushi helped me to supersede the ideals I had for myself in the food market. I had previously limited myself to the normalcy of dining out. I latently desired to try something new, exciting, refreshing, and I found that in sushi. It never hurts to branch out and try something new, something potentially delicious. Why should I, or anyone else, limit my food choices because of a preconceive idea of what might happen. I surprised myself. I surpassed my friends in eating sushi because I allowed myself to experiment and like what I ate. If I didn’t do that, how could I possibly call myself a food-lover?